Archives for December 6, 2013

Billy goat told them how Salem was lost,
sailing through tumors and murmured moans in the frost
cost an imp wishes, how they envisioned the image of God,
Twitching in repetition as Lepers just arched into rock,
Barged into hoofed quarters and continued to order the flock,
clocks ticking so why we sticking round on this block?
ground mimics tin heights, tonight’s the winters crop,
Can’t he limit how Billy fills the dark,
with phantom angst as his pride hangs dancing in fog.
Grab the grey book pageant and imagine the cost..
lost the tapes they say saw me snatching the tags from this cross,
bragging how they bagged Satan, but why don’t they state how I made life rise from the moss,
screaming “pops its alright, I taught Cyclops how to write with one eye and walk with two left feet” left crying if you believe that love’s blind.
Try dying twice awake, sheesh when I sleep I’m alive,
with ruby red cheeks weeping the thief has arrived,
silently cloaked and violently floats through design
told them of Pieces and Christs rise to divine,
How the tiger turns to lion and
Venus’s streaming pleats took a seat beside mine.
Decide who’s to rectify the eccentric owls cry,
repent for the pessimistic who sanctify angered vibes,
mystic crafts garnered, armed the divide
but I….
I held the precious child speaking tongues between smiles,
leaping from this trees brow ailed by a fraille outline,
how they made it look easy,
believe me I’ve tried,
to sketch on fleshes surface and give purpose to mine.
Written in cursive with hands tied finger tips gripping the sunrise
tied to Poseidons sinking wit and split from the wise.
It ripped through summer gales, trailing the vines,
displayed in Mercury’ fiery pulse and fell to the side…
but I…
I’ve seen the night rise in my prism of light,
been imprisoned by doves wings under the timid stars eyes.
Will it devour my soul?, or will it teach me to prize?
Reach me liberty, Shit, we owe it to life.
Can the shuttle bring peace while we’re huddled in ice,
but will it devour my soul? its so cold we might just give it a try.
Why’s the weather changing? Let’s arrange to play blind,
and cage your heart in the lake made from an angels final cry.

It is often argued that culture plays an important role in defining who and what we are, and so many still resort to the old ways of their ancestors, but are the ways we resort to really the ways of our first ancestors? If not, then why do we need to stick to these way?

While it is important to not forget the past and not forget where we come from, it should also be remembered that today, even the most traditional and deep rooted Africans, may not know where exactly they come from. From a historians point of view, there is no concrete evidence of the customs of the cultures of old which still play a role in today’s African society. All that is known and all that is done is based on one of the most unreliable sources there is: word of mouth.

Most of that which we know about the various cultures in South Africa is what has been passed down from generation to generation verbally. The knowledge of that which is supposedly the old ways is basically the echo of someone who comes from a previous and older generation, and that is the way it has been for over two hundred years. Who is to say that over the years, cultural knowledge hasn’t changed and being altered to suit the generation currently holding the knowledge. One way to display the unreliability of verbal accounts is through a game of broken telephone. The message uttered at the beginning of the game is seldom the exact same as what is spoken at the end of the game. The conclusion we get from the example of the broken telephone, is that there is a chance that as modern Africans, what we call our old and cultural ways may not necessarily be our old and cultural ways, but rather a more modernised version, or possibly even the complete opposite.

Once again referring to the game of broken telephone, the conclusion we can arrive at is that basically, as modern Africans, we live our lives according to the final message spoken, which has changed and differs from the original, but for some reason, we as people blind ourselves and are convinced that it is the original.

A newer generation always seems to have different ideas from that of the previous. Let us just pretend that the verbal history and stories, cultural rites and beliefs passed down are accurate, the fact is no two generations are the same. A younger one will have new ideas and probably a “less closed-minded” ideology, certain cultural beliefs would contradict that of certain members of the generation, and thus they would probably not be passed down, so is this part of that cultures history not dead if less and less people pass it down.

Culture is an ever changing thing, yet many refuse to see that. From a personal point of view, there are a number of things I as an individual will not be passing down to my kids, simply because I don’t believe them. Would it not be hypocritical to want future generations to know and believe something that I am against.

Can it not be said that perhaps, our culture and where we come from is forgotten. This does not necessarily mean that our culture is dead however. Culture is something that we create and live out. Whether it be a system of morals and beliefs, we as a generation need to open our minds. The fact is, there is no point in resorting to the old to appease ancestors or to stay true to your culture, because we don’t know the old ways.

From a distance I gaze upon your beauty as you appear from within the evening mist and lightly brush against my soul, breathing sweetness on my spirit with the breath of angels love; – a stranger who would linger in the passage of my mind and there upon my barren soil, pour water on the seed of long forgotten love…

When the dream becomes untouchable, and the vision fades away, – it is in reality that I awake and find your presence in my life to be greater than anything I have ever imagined in the slumber of my darkest night..